


The Sound of Settling

by fletchfeathers



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Birbs of the South, Gen, Orsus, platonic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25109215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fletchfeathers/pseuds/fletchfeathers
Summary: Talon jolts from a half-remembered dream of ice pillars, an onyx jackal and swirling green lights, to see Mheiri standing before him, her hands behind her back.He blinks, rubbing away the still-clinging sleep, and she smiles gently down at him."Hello, sleepyhead," she says, her voice as musical and light as always. "I have something for you."
Relationships: Talon Firadel and Mheiri Starborn, Talon Firadel/Tristan Elis'Amahr (mentioned)





	The Sound of Settling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LostTime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostTime/gifts).



> because talon and mheiri's friendship brings me insane amounts of joy, i absolutely adore them ;o;

Talon jolts from a half-remembered dream of ice pillars, an onyx jackal and swirling green lights, to see Mhéirí standing before him, her hands behind her back.

He blinks, rubbing away the still-clinging sleep, and she smiles gently down at him.

"Hello, sleepyhead," she says, her voice as musical and light as always. "I have something for you."

"For me?" Talon asks, his voice still a little chalky from having just woken up. He summons what he hopes is a grateful smile as he sits up and stretches, feeling a satisfying crack across his shoulders, and something soft lands in his lap.

When he looks down, he sees a flower crown.

It’s such a delicate, pretty thing, lovely in a way that he almost feels guilty for touching with his calloused, dirty hands; but Mhéirí smiles, soft and encouraging, and sits in front of him, taking hold of his wrists. He’s only recently taken off his bracers for the evening, and the skin beneath them is still a little tender from the tight leather, but Mhéirí's touch is feather-light, the pads of her thumbs tracing gentle patterns over the ridges of scars that spiderweb up his arms. Some, the more recent ones, are simply from careless accidents with his daggers or swipes from enemies that he didn't quite dodge in time; but a few, older and fainter now, serve more as remnants of a both figurative and literal past life, reminders of a time when he didn't have all of this – this small, eclectic group he now calls family, or this pretty arrangement of flowers sitting in his lap, part of a collection that Mhéirí had spent the evening making for each of them.

It's been a blissfully quiet few days on the road, compared to the usual, and they've all appreciated the brief snatch of downtime. Mhéirí, in particular, has been brushing up on her floriography – a skill she had learned first from her grandmother, apparently, but had gotten out of practice with.

Mhéirí has been missing home lately. Even Talon can sense the quiet not-quite-sadness around her when she thinks no-one is paying attention, that dissipates briefly in the small snatches of conversation she gets with her grandmother before settling back in.

"Your thoughts are so loud," Mhéirí muses softly, reaching up to touch Talon's cheek. Talon frowns, feeling the tips of his ears start to burn with embarrassment, but there's no judgement in Mhéirí's soft voice. There rarely is, even when Talon feels like he deserves it.

Kind of like now.

He knows he's been distant with them all lately, after the fight with the Umber Hulk that managed to overpower his mind. Even as good as it had felt to kill it, to drive his shadow blade right into its forehead and watch its eyes go dark, he can't stop thinking about how his limbs locked in place, his thoughts hazy and foggy as though he was about to fall asleep right there in the river, his vision obscured by yellow, kaleidoscopic insect eyes.

It's hitting Tris the hardest because of course it is, and the guilt writhes in Talon's stomach, paradoxically making him want to withdraw even further.

But it's not Tris' fault, or any of their faults. He's just – he's just _bad_. And he knows, he's a bad person, and a bad friend, and he knows he doesn't deserve them, any of them, and –

"Why are you so angry with yourself?" Mhéirí asks, brushing some stray strands of Talon's white forelock from his face; and he's almost fucking frustrated with himself when he feels the hot sting of tears in his eyes, fiercely blinking them back. Talon doesn't _deserve_ this, her kindness, her softness. He never has. And yet, here she is, being so – so _good_ to him, as though she doesn't know he's not worth it –

Mhéirí keeps her hand on his cheek, though her expression softens into something like – not pity, not quite, but something just as sad.

"I just," Talon says, a little strangled around the hard lump in his throat. "I don't... I'm sorry."

Mhéirí tips her head slightly, blinking her appropriately doe-like eyes, and sighs gently through her nose. And Talon can't look her in the face, can't stop the anxious, spiteful thing that wants to push her away, push them all away and be alone the way he should be, writhing in his stomach.

"Do you like your flower crown?" Mhéirí asks, catching him a little off guard as she gently lifts it onto his head and adjusts it to fit. "I think yours is my favourite of them all."

Talon nods, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He does like it – he _loves_ it, loves that Mhéirí took the time to make something for him, for all of them. He can't deny that he's been admiring Tris from afar, giggling and giddy with the dandelions and bright blue flowers Talon doesn't know the name of bringing out his lovely eyes. Xheska and Mheiri got the most vibrant ones, followed by Tris, while he and Quick Branch got ones that were a little more understated (but honestly, Talon kind of appreciates that). Talon's doesn't have as many flowers as the others – it's more leafy, with snowdrops and white heather peeking through the carefully interwoven greenery and, more sparsely, something dark pink and yellow that he doesn't recognise to add a burst of colour.

"Yeah?" he prompts. "It's definitely my favourite, too."

Mhéirí laughs her bright, airy laugh.

"I'm glad to hear it," she says, carefully reaching up to rearrange one or two of the flowers that are going rogue (ha). "But … do you want to know why I picked these for you?"

Talon blinks for a second, but then – remembers, of course, the floriography book she has been poring over the last few days. She bought it back in Alsched, if he remembers right.

Still, he asks, "Because they're pretty, like me?" with a quick flutter of eyelashes for good measure, just to try and draw another laugh out of his cervine friend. It works like a charm, though, even if she does playfully roll her eyes.

"Yes, Talon," she replies once the laughter has worn off. "Of course. Because they're pretty, like you."

Talon manages a grin, and for a moment it feels like the persistent fog that's been clouding his brain for the past few days lifts, just a little.

"Did you make them all, like..." Talon gestures vaguely for a second, trying to figure out how to word it, "… with flower language?"

"I did," Mhéirí replies. "For you as people, but also for things I wish for you. Tristan's, for example – his is blue tulips for tranquillity and trust, violets for faithfulness, and dandelions for overcoming hardship."

Talon nods, glancing back at the Aasimar. He's sitting next to Xheska, brows furrowed in concentration, as he works a slightly uneven braid into Xheska's hair.

"That seems pretty accurate," Talon agrees.

"Plus," Mhéirí grins, "the blue really brings out his eyes."

Talon can't help but laugh at Mhéirí's weirdly spot-on read of his thoughts, before he finally relents.

"Alright, hit me. What's mine? Bastardry, maybe? Seagull stabbing?"

Mhéirí's grin softens, and she cocks her head just slightly, her soft dark hair catching the golden evening light as she does. She lifts the crown off of Talon's head again, pointing out each plant as she defines them.

"Wormwood," she begins, her voice gentle as she touches the leafy bulk of the crown, "for absence, and bitter sorrow."

Talon nods slowly, watching her face. Her expression doesn't change, but her dark eyes are strangely bright as she continues.

"White heather, for protection. Snowdrops, for hope and consolation."

She pauses for a moment, looking back up to him almost shyly as her fingers brush the deep pink flowers in the centre of the crown.

"And honeysuckle," she says, quieter this time, "for devoted affection, and bonds of love."

Talon blinks at that, surprised, but Mhéirí's smile is still placid and sweet as she leans forward and kisses Talon gently on the forehead.

"Mhéirí," Talon breathes, because his voice seems to have gotten lost somewhere under the swell of gratitude and fondness that's just swept through him, "I ... thank you."

"Of course," she says, getting to her feet. "Now, maybe just come and join us for a while, hm? We've missed you this evening. Even Quick Branch was worried."

Talon hisses out another laugh at that, but gets to his feet, pausing to admire the flower crown once more before he follows Mhéirí back to the camp.

_Protection. Hope. Consolation. Bonds of love._

_Fuck_ , he thinks, eloquently, and stubbornly pushes away the voice in his head that tells him _you don't deserve it, you don't deserve it_.

He steadies himself with a deep breath, following behind Mhéirí, and the tightness in his chest seems to unravel when the others look up at him with welcoming smiles. Tris shuffles along the log he's perched on to make room for Talon, touching a quiet kiss to his cheek when Talon sits beside him and putting Talon's flower crown back on his head.

"It suits you, Talon," Tris says, earnest as always. "Mhéirí did a great job."

Talon nods, and lets his head drop to Tris' shoulder as Xheska passes out some delicious-smelling soup and softly tousles Talon's hair on the way past.

Quick Branch throws a light punch at Talon's arm with a quiet, "Done moping?" that holds no malice or spite.

"For now," Talon replies with a small smile, and Quick Branch smirks back at him, pushing a loose leaf from her own crown out of her face before she sips at the soup Xheska's made. She makes an appreciative noise as she does, a low purr rumbling out of her chest.

Talon's never had anything he could really call home - not since the Crow's Nest, at least.

But he thinks, as he settles against Tris' side as he sips at his own soup as his friends chatter and laugh around him, that this might be the closest thing.


End file.
